


While You Sleep

by Foolsparsley (Freckleberg)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidentally Overheard Confessions Trope, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, So Fucking Sweet Your Teeth Will Rot, Who Knows Why I Write This Dumb Sweet Silly Stuff But It Makes Me Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26847928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckleberg/pseuds/Foolsparsley
Summary: Geralt apologizes to Jaskier while he sleeps, and then says a little bit more...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 24
Kudos: 247





	While You Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I don't often write Geralt x Jaskier, but when I do it's stupid and sweet. This is more of a Netflix!Geralt x Netflix!Jaskier vibe, than a Book or Game vibe. Hope you like it.

Geralt lay awake cursing himself. 

_"It's not good to go to sleep angry,"_ Jaskier had said, _"so you'd better apologize to me now."_

Geralt had not apologized. Instead, glaring silently, he had yanked the pack that they shared as a pillow out from under Jaskier's head, and thrown it down three feet away, indicating he would sleep alone.

Jaskier had just laughed, _"Alright, have it your way,"_ he said, then he folded his arms under his head, closed his eyes, and was snoring peacefully within seconds.

Geralt meanwhile lay awake, as the fire burnt itself into nothing but embers, stewing in self-loathing and regret. 

_W_ _hy do I always do this?_ he thought, cursing himself for the hundredth time that night. _Why do I bottle up frustrations, then unleash them on Jaskier of all people? Jaskier, who hasn't really wronged me. Jaskier who embodies goodness. Who is protective and loyal. Jaskier, who I --_

Geralt cursed, unable to finish the thought - unable to admit that feeling, even to himself in his own mind. They said that witchers had no emotions, that they couldn't feel. Well, Geralt knew he could feel alright. He was full of feelings. He just couldn't express them the way he intended - that was his curse. Geralt couldn't bring himself to think, let alone to say, the feelings he knew he had. Even now, while Jaskier was asleep and would be blissfully unaware.

Completely, and utterly unaware.

Sound asleep.

Out cold.

Would not hear a word Geralt said if he could just say it.

Geralt groaned. _If not now, then when...?_

He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and shut his eyes tight as if to protect himself from the words he was about to speak. "Jaskier, I'm sorry," he said.

He opened one eye and looked sidelong at the poet - still sleeping soundly, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, a sparkle of drool dribbling gently down his cheek, chest quietly rising and falling with each breath. It seemed safe to continue.

"I'm sorry for the things I said earlier because I didn't mean them. I never do. And I think you know that." He felt lighter, warmer with each word as if it was a spell he was murmuring - a spell that was releasing him from a prison he had not known he was in. 

"You always forgive me, and I need you to always forgive me. Because I-... I like having you around." He was growing braver, bolder. A fire was starting to build his chest. 

"I... I like having you around because... you make me better. I'm ... I'm more like the man I want to be when you're around, not the monster I become when I'm alone." The words tumbled and tripped over his lips, as he forced them out with a mix of fear and excitement. "So ... I need you to forgive me, because I need you to stay with me, because I...I love you." 

The words hung in the air like embers from the fire - fragile, but bright. Geralt's eyes darted over to Jaskier. The bard's eyes remained closed, his long lashes resting softly against his cheeks; his pink lips, softly parted, as if he might speak or sing in his sleep; his cheeks were rosy under the moonlight, flushed in the cool night air as the fire died down; his jaw strong and straight; his chest - rising and falling softly - surprisingly muscular for a troubadour; his arms folded above his head, long and muscular too. Geralt soaked him in, marveling at the man who lay before him: Julian Alfred Pankratz, Jaskier, bard, companion, annoyance, and the man Geralt had just admitted that he loved. 

Suddenly, Jaskier's eyes snapped open and a smile fluttered onto his lips. "Well, aren't you talkative tonight," he crooned.

"Jaskier!" Geralt cried, sitting bolt upright. "How long have you been awake?"

Jaskier stretched his arms and pushed himself up on his elbows. "Oh quite a while," he said. "Long enough to hear your tortured apology, your dramatic moonlit confession."

Geralt felt his slow heart pound in his chest, his blood running hot with fear and anguish and surprise. "You what?" Geralt felt adrenaline flood through him; the desire to flee being quickly overcome by his training, and turning into an urge to fight. "Jaskier, I will end you," he said. He lunged for the bard, but Jaskier scrambled to his feet and darted away. Geralt scrambled after him, but Jaskier was surprisingly quick, dashing around the fire and evading the witcher's grasp. "You weren't meant to hear that!" Geralt growled, swinging his arm out to try and catch Jaskier's coat.

"Oh I know," Jaskier chortled as he ducked and evaded Geralt's grasp. "But I did, and now I know."

"You know shit," Geralt raged, lurching for Jaskier again, diving across the fire. Jaskier jumped back and tumbled away. "Come here!"

"Come catch me," Jaskier laughed, leaping over their packs and scrambling behind Roach, putting the surprised mare between them. Geralt followed, pausing on the nearside of the horse, ready to dart left or right, waiting for Jaskier to move.

"Truce, truce," Jaskier called, out of breath. He rested both elbows on Roach's back, pressed his fists together, and perched his head on his closed hands. "Come closer, Geralt, I won't bite," he said.

"I might bite you," Geralt growled, but he moved closer as instructed until he was nearly flush with Roach, just inches away from Jaskier's face. The bard was grinning.

"Well, I might like that," Jaskier said. "Because now that you've made your dramatic confession, I can make mine: _I_ love you too."

Geralt felt his heart stop entirely. Before he could react, Jaskier reached out and grabbed Geralt's shirt in both his hands and pulled him into a kiss. His lips were hot and rough, his breath sweet like beer, his tongue lashed out to flick against Geralt's own. Stars exploded behind Geralt's eyes, in his fingertips, his lips, his chest, anywhere their bodies touched. As Jaskier pulled back, Geralt, instinctively, bit gently on his bottom lip, pleading with him to stay. 

Jaskier leaned back and grinned. "Well, what do you have to say to that?" he asked. 

And after everything he'd said that night, Geralt could say nothing at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are love.


End file.
